


Seep Into Skin

by Jaded



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-23
Updated: 2011-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:42:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaded/pseuds/Jaded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War brings worry and change to Downton. Takes place during 1916.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seep Into Skin

**1.**

“From the way she’s acting,” Edith says as Anna pins back her curls, “you’d think that she was in mourning.” Anna steps back and allows Edith to admire herself in the glass, and while she is not looking, Anna glances back to the youngest of the Crawley sisters who is dressed in purple and black.

“Don’t be crass,” Mary snaps, pressing a flower into her crown of dark hair, but she too does not notice, as Anna does, how Sybil holds her wrist, stroking at the pulse point where a kiss was once pressed in the intimacy of a stairwell, as though touching it brings back the warmth from that lost day. “You forget yourself, Edith. There’s a war going on, if you recall, and some of us take the matter quite seriously. The Germans don’t stop their advance simply because we are holding an officer’s ball at Downton. If Sybil chooses to be somber that is her choice.”

There are things Anna knows about her mistress that Mary and Edith do not, and so she cannot completely fault them their flippancy. They’ve not had to carry the weight of a letter containing a soft curl of hair meant for a solider on the front. They’ve not had to deliver the news to Lady Sybil that the letters have stopped coming.

“Pardon me,” Sybil says abruptly, and she excuses herself from the room.

 

 **2.**

At the ball, Honoria Spencer indulges Sybil with a secret: Captain Benji Glossop, better known as Lord Moorehouse, has taken a shine to her. Sybil tries to smile when he asks her to dance, and her parents beam at the couple. They are thinking only of what is best for their daughter, who has not seemed herself lately, though the fire is still sometimes there when she talks of the vote, of women’s rights.

As for Lord Moorehouse, he is puzzled by her interest in the Irish regiments and her knowledge of the motorized units, but doesn’t question her because he is glad that she is engaging with him in conversation at all.

 

 **3.**

At midnight, Lord and Lady Grantham make an announcement: Downton Abbey will be converted into a hospital for the injured and sickly. Applause fills the room, and Cora Crawley beams. “All our brave boys who find their way here will be not only given the utmost care, but will be treated like the heroes they are. They will be waited on hand and foot by the staff of Downton.” The electric lights seem even brighter after the announcement, and they make the medals on Lord Grantham’s uniform shine.

Hearing enough, Miss O’Brien slinks away into the shadows to have a smoke on her own, as she is wont to do now. She complains to the dark as Thomas is long gone. It has been some two years.

 

 **4.**

Mary sometimes hears of Matthew, but never from him.

“At least you know he is safe,” Sybil says, kindly.

Edith agrees as Anna helps her change into a fresh apron. Edith has taken to caring for the wounded soldiers lodging at Downton, and it has given her purpose that she’s never had before. The loss of Sir Anthony seems only a footnote now. Her patients—be they lords or commoners—appreciate her in a way that she’s never known until now. It has made her kinder, except perhaps toward Mary.

“If he’s safe, he will return to Downton,” Sybil says.

“When?” Mary asks. “They day you decide to accept Lord Moorehouse’s proposal? The day they lay me in my coffin?” Her disappointments have made her sharper, but there is a sadness where once there was pride.

“If he loves you—and he is alive—he will return,” Sybil insists. She is young and still believes in such things. She palms a tattered letter in her hand that her sisters cannot see. The paper has become soft and frayed over time. Sybil runs her hands over the sentences, wondering if the ink can seep into her the same way the words have.

 

 **5.**

“I remember you from your debut in London,” Lord Moorehouse says, following her down the gravel path toward the stables. Halfway down the path, she allows him to take her arm. Her parents follow shortly behind. “I remember you made quite the splash, but you often disappeared before the evening was over. I remember wanting to talk to you, but only finding your sisters.”

“Ah, yes,” she says. “I was often tired out by it all, being at the center of the attention. I found that sometimes I couldn’t think. I found that a long drive would help to clear my head.”

He nods but is nonplussed. “I see.”

 

 **6.**

A convoy comes around the bend, a lorry full of the walking wounded. The day is full of gloom and rain, not unlike many other days of 1916. The war has cast its pall even on the weather.

As it passes, Sybil sees what she thinks is a ghost and runs toward it, not away.

“What the deuce?” Lord Moorehouse cries as she lifts the hem of her skirts and sprints after the vehicle. Each step kicks up a shower of mud.

The soldiers pour out of the convoy and, guided by Mr. Carson, walk toward the house. Save for one. He stands three feet from Lady Sybil, head bowed, arm in a sling, before she closes the space, her arms sliding carefully around his torso as not to hurt him.

Mary drops her parasol as she watches, one eyebrow crooked, and asks in surprise to no one in particular, “Isn’t that Branson?”

And as Branson presses his forehead against Sybil's, his blue eyes showing her that he is still that bright spark, Sybil gives the answer so only Branson can hear, a yes whispered so close that if feels as though it could seep into his skin.

 

[the end]


End file.
